More. Or less.

Soul twisted tight,
for money and time.
But bright city lights,
now left behind.

Wandering vibe,
free from the grind.
Found a wee tribe,
the neighbourly kind.

“Stay for a night!”
Turns into two.
High as a kite.
Wine, that will do. 

Bellbird chimes, morning light.
Local produce fills the table.
Golden sand, what a sight!
Pure New Zealand on the Able.

Cook straight we must tame.
On the walk to worlds end.
But we’ll see you again.
A warm wink with new friends.

The light now mid-fade.
The land in retreat.
Good memories made,
in sand and bare feet.

Then stealing a kiss,
the yacht tilts into tack.
That view we will miss,
once more looking back.

Not dollars, or pounds,
or things we possess,
could buy what we found,
in a life with less-stress.